The spirit of the Olympics

EVEN the parties were instructive. An 18-year-old Danish windsurfer, Sebastian Fleischer, arrived at Heathrow the day after the Olympics closed, looking the worse for wear. "I've been drinking a lot of beer," he said. "I've not drunk for the last one or two years." It was a glimpse of the sacrifices made by the athletes in their efforts to climb to the top of their various sports. Years of training went into Olympic appearances that lasted, at most, an hour or two, and sometimes a few seconds. For those living more pedestrian lives, it might seem an odd balance. But those moments in front of a noisy crowd were of such intensity, not only for each athlete, but also for the millions watching on television, that the balance, for a time at least, seemed perfectly reasonable.

For those remaining Olympic sceptics, these outstanding moments were not about someone with a superior physique beating lesser mortals. Skill, tactical intelligence, courage, luck, just desert, and courtesy also played their parts. There was the open-mouthed shock of Katherine Copeland on winning a gold in the women's sculls; the tenacity of Andy Murray in the pivotal game in the second set against Roger Federer; Mo Farah's family celebrations; David Rudisha's astonishing 800m record.

The cameras dwelt on the winners, but other scenes captured the heart in equal measure: Lawrence Clarke finishing fourth in the 110m hurdles when he was not even supposed to make the final; Manteo Mitchell, who heard his leg break 200 metres into the 400m relay, and yet ran for another 200 metres to hand on the baton; Mark Hunter, who had to be lifted from his boat by Sir Steve Redgrave, having given his all to win a silver medal; the bravery of Wojdan Shaherkani in the judo, aged 16, only a blue belt, from Saudi Arabia, and female; wrestlers from the US and Iran having a friendly hug; similar camaraderie between table-tennis players from North and South Korea; Usain Bolt refusing to continue a live TV interview because the Kenyan national anthem started for a medal ceremony; Bradley Wiggins refusing to celebrate his time-trial victory until his final competitor had crossed the line; the number of times God was acknowledged (Letter). . .

And the crowds contributed to this restoration of the Olympic spirit: giving a standing ovation at Eton Dorney for the last-placed Hamadou Djibo Issaka, from Niger, who had started rowing only three months before, and had practised in an old fishing boat; and, at the marathon on Sunday, cheering all the runners as they passed: "Come on Ukraine!" "Aussie, Aussie, Aussie!" "Good on yer, Peru!"

As the Dutch showjumpers said to the British team that beat them: "That was good sport."